The Garden
by ConcreteHole
Summary: Fluffy One-Shot. Eowyn reflects on her life in Gondor, and Faramir's unwillingness to repeat his father's mistakes. Faramir/Eowyn.


The birds chirped merrily in the garden around them, their song near drowned out by the gentle trickle of the fountain and the sounds of children at play, joyful and gay in the delight that came of childhood. Eowyn sat watching contentedly upon the grass, inhaling deeply the scent of the foliage, deliciously sweet in the early morning air as the cooling breeze rushed around her. The sunlight poured in through the many trees that littered the sides of the great wall that surrounded them, illuminating the blissful scene it beheld and the family who so eagerly enjoyed it. Around them all was bright and radiant, even the flowers utterly full of cheer.

She continued to sit unmoving, watching with the purest of smiles the heart-warming scene that lay before her eyes. Never before had she known such peace, and she had no doubts that the same thought was not far from her lover's mind.

Cradling the sleeping baby tighter in her arms, she cooed softly to the young child, encouraging his continued efforts to valiantly fight the call of sleep, though to little avail. His head continued ceaselessly to fall to the side, exhaustion sweeping his small form from where he sat upon the grass. Steadily his eyes lulled farther and farther into the inevitable call of slumber, and soon was nothing more upon the grass than a mewling pile of drool and the sweetest of dreams.

A delighted giggle drifted across the grass and rows of flowers, garnering Eowyn's attention away from the sleeping infant and onto more lively matters. The sight of Miriel, clapping her hands excitedly, utterly overjoyed with happiness was no new spectacle, nor was the most recently torn up pile of flowers; they never lasted long in Ithilien with her eldest around.

The same sentiment was becoming truer every day in relation to her husband.

She could not help but feel a mixture of good humour and pity at the sight of the poor, innocent man. It seemed that their daughter, in her ever infinite wisdom had decided the title of Prince garnered a crown worthy of such a high position. If it was forced out of necessity to be made entirely of daisies, then it was a sacrifice the young child was evidently willing to make.

Faramir sat placid and utterly content whilst Miriel continued her tireless work, unwilling to rest until his dark locks were entirely adorned by her favoured decoration. It contrasted sharply with his dark features, but melded inexplicably with the joy upon his face. Even from her distance she could see how his eyes danced with mirth and his heart warmed at the proud look upon his daughter's face.

"Mama!" she squealed in delight, bounding over to Eowyn as fast as her short, stocky legs could carry her. She giggled again as she fell heavily within her mother's arms, not an unusual occurrence in the sunny child's life. "Have you seen Father?" she babbled animatedly in her high pitched tone. "Did you see how funny he looks?"

She giggled again, falling back upon the grass, her blonde hair flowing in waves around her like a sea of sunshine. How fittingly it was bestowed upon her.

"Mmm," the voice of Faramir sounded from above. His voice was stern as he gave his daughter a hard look, though Eowyn could still spot the humour in his eyes. "And I do question how I became such a way."

"I have no idea," Miriel lied resolutely, crossing her arms across her small chest in defiance.

"Oh, really?" he questioned the young girl. "None at all?"

"None."

Eowyn raised her eyebrows pointedly, though held her tongue. Although Miriel was incredibly bright for her age, sometimes she found it hard to believe what an obstinate child her daughter could be, always quick to point out her opinions and others flaws. Often she had been scolded by Eowyn for it, and a few times even by Faramir himself, though she knew it pained him to do so. But it was to little avail; she was far too stubborn and headstrong to heed the advice of anyone, and often Eowyn wondered on it.

Had she herself ever been such a child? No, it was impossible. Her whole life she had worked to serve her mother and later her uncle, seeing the toll that war had taken upon them both. But Miriel had seen no such sight, felt no such pain, and for that she was grateful. She had been wholly sheltered from the horror of war, and understood nothing of death and mourning.

She turned her eyes away from one child and back to the other. Elboron had finally reawakened, this time taking no heed of his mother and instead turning his attention to his latest toy - a horrid little beetle. Eowyn since childhood had always been utterly repulsed by the dirty little creatures her son had taken to now claiming as pets, and was far from happy with his new obsession.

It was no great wonder when she turned her attention away from the dreaded habit and back to the less insect-orientated part of her family.

She saw with no surprise Miriel happy in play with her father, partially smothered by kisses and partially crushed by his immense weight, screaming half-heartedly for mercy. It was no new scene for the pair, and no doubt would not be the last; indeed, it was quite the opposite of what she knew of them both. Eowyn had often silently noted the caring, attentive attitude Faramir took to both his children from before they had even entered the world.

She knew the relationship with his own father had been more than lacking, and perhaps that was now the cause for his own overwhelming devotion to his own children. It was a fool who did not learn from his past, and it seemed as though Faramir was intent on being a better father than his own, often forgetting the harsh, rigid rules and etiquettes that dictated the Gondorian lifestyle; none more so than that of the royals. Even Eowyn found some behaviours of her child unacceptable, she herself being reared in a much less conservative lifestyle than found in Gondor - and yet Faramir still remained passive against it.

Oh, bother it all, she thought gently as Miriel finally tired out for the morning, resting her head resolutely on her father's chest. She would rather have Miriel's sheltered happiness than her own exposed mourning. She shared a brief glance with her husband, both of them too bogged down with sleeping children to find comfort in the other's embrace.

Yes - she would gladly take the former, even if it meant little private time spent with her lover. No doubt Faramir agreed.

Their family was safe, happy and together.

Life was good.


End file.
